In Memory

Boxer

I would like to tell a story. A story about a big beautiful bunny with a big heart, and kept his spirits up despite his suffering.

He had the biggest ears, the length of a grown-man's palm, and two thirds as wide. When he shook his head, his ears will flap around and create a little breeze. And when he yawned and closed his limpid eyes, his mouth opened as wide as an apricot and the world would stand still.

He had a very kissable nose that he will bump you hard with if you were in his way. He loved having his head rubbed. He was a puppy-dog bunny, skittishly scampering about, and rather messy in an insouciant way. He liked to sit beside one's chair as you worked waiting for the occasional headrub; however he was difficult to get close to, often running off to hide when one got near.

He loved fresh vegetables, attacking a stalk of celery or carrot like a puppy would to a big juicy bone. There was so much joy when he ate that the angels will watch in wonder. And like a puppy dog, he had a way looking at you adorably that melts your heart - only to find a big puddle left behind when he scampers off.

I loved this bunny when I first saw him at the Toronto Humane Society (when he was called Malcom) but it was 3 to 4 months later before I could get him because he was unavailable for adoption for various medical reasons whenever we were ready. He was a sad looking bunny - sitting motionless in his cage; he was old, big, and sick - three strikes against him on most people's criteria but I wanted him all the same. On 06 Jan, I decided the bunny had enough and signed a medical waiver and took him home. When I put him in his new space, he was totally transformed; instead of being listless, he was energetic, his eyes sparkled, his ears perked up to their full span - we couldn't believe he was the same bunny (or how big those ears were!), and renamed him Boxer to better suit his optimistic personality.

Unfortunately the honeymoon didn't last, after their curiosity and excitement wore off, the other bunnies began to get jealous or felt threatened by Boxer and we found ourselves having to protect Boxer from bunnies half his size (instead of the other way round that we'd thought). We tried scheduling different free run times, but Boxer was so intimidated by the other bunnies that he did not venture far from his area (other than a few skittish exploratory hops or hasty circuits) even though he had the run of the place.

I noticed he was carrying his weight off his right hind leg but since he was a tad clumsy always knocking into things, we thought he probably bruised it by tripping over something. He soon started to limp and the foot began to swell. We took him to a vet who pronounced it a foot infection and prescribed antibiotics, when that didn't work we brought him in for an operation to remove the pus in the foot. What a mistake that was! His foot got worse after the operation and I did not want to amputate it because of his age - he could barely stand or sit with half a working foot, let alone a missing foot. In the following months we tried to save his foot - I would hold onto a kicking biting bunny while Bob tried to squeeze the pus out of the foot, and Bob would hold him while I bandaged the foot with gauze to keep it clean. It was as awful for us as it was for him - we showered him with kisses and treats every time he squeaked or grunted in pain when we touched a tender spot.

Yet despite not being able to stand or sit or run without discomfort, Boxer somehow kept his spirits up - the highlight of his day and mine was when I went to him with fresh vegetables with my hand. He loved chomping on fresh celery stalks; and when he later discovered raspberries, would scoff them quickly and bump you hard asking for more. He took so much pleasure in eating, that one can't help but love watching him eat.

On Wed, I took him to the vet because his foot suddenly got worse and began to bleed profusely. The vet informed me Boxer had lost 20 pounds since his last visit and the prognosis was grim - they had already tried everything before and it had not gotten better.

On the way back from the vet, Boxer was very quiet and when he eventually came out of his carrier his ears were so low that they touched the ground like a lop. I have never seen him so sad before - it was as if he knew, or he had lost his spirit. He was no longer his usual self - for three days he sat quietly in a corner and did not eat or drink although he would always be glad to polish off raspberries (which he would eat out of my hand).

Around 6 am on Sat morning, Pixie (our youngest bunny) kept trying to break into Boxer's fenced area - I thought she was taunting Boxer and told her off (now I realize she was trying to tell us something was wrong with Boxer).

When I picked Boxer up, he was jammed uncomfortably against the wall - unusually, he did not struggle and lay back in my arms with his head lolled back in what we thought was a bunny trance position. He was filthy from head to toe and his feet were encrusted. We did not know why he was so dirty (we realize now he was too weak to clean himself, to put up a struggle like he usually did) but we took turns cradling him in our arms as we cleaned his area and washed the grime off him to make him more comfortable.

While we were drying Boxer, he furled his big ears forwards and squealed twice - I thought he had taken in some water and went to the kitchen to get him a raspberry to make him feel better. I heard Bob crying in the bathroom while I was in the kitchen and I rushed back and tried to revive Boxer with CPR but it was too late. My big beautiful boy was gone - he had never been more clean and soft and beautiful.

When we ran out of tears, we carefully dried him off and bought a blue linen cloth that matches his cheery personality to wrap him in. Neither of us had cried more in our lives - not for any animal, not for any person - Boxer had touched us deeply in his short stay with us.

Bob took him on a tour of the new house, showing him what we were doing when we were away - getting the house ready to move in, and preparations for the dining room which was being converted to become his own special area. I then took him around the backyard I made little nooks for him to explore and rest in, filled with bunny-friendly flowers and vegetables I had planted for him. I had looked forward to watching him explore the backyard, and feeding him the vegetables I know he would love.

We buried him next to the fence in the backyard amidst the flowers and vegetables so he could come and go as he pleased, it was his final home next to the railway lands he would have all the space to run on. I placed the last raspberry he did not get to eat with him, as well as a piece of rainbow quartz to protect him wherever he went, seeing how I was unable to while he was alive.

As the sun set, we gave him our final headrubs and buried him with the first flower from the garden, a white peony stained with red. I planted a raspberry bush above his feet so he will have all the raspberries he loved.

Passing by a grocery store, I cried wishing I had given him all the raspberries the night before instead of saving some for the next day. We wish he was longer with us so he could get to know us, and we could get to know him. We had made plans for him to be with us for a few years, and not just a few months.

Dear Boxer, even though it may not have seemed to you, we loved you very very much - and I, especially, loved you most of all (but don't tell the other bunnies or else they get jealous). You always made my heart happy everytime I look at you - I wish I could have made you as happy as you've made me. I should have spent more time with you. I hope you are finally happy and found a place to call home.

Do visit sometime, or at least come and get me when it is my time to go.

Your pooper-scooper,

Stephen.

See also: Poems for Boxer

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